


An Avenger's Christmas Wish

by celtic7irish



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, unoriginal title is unoriginal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas morning at the Avengers Tower.  And at least one Avenger has a very special gift in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Avenger's Christmas Wish

Steve’s eyes snapped open, his body freezing as he stared wide-eyed at an amused Natasha.  “Good morning, Steve,” the redheaded spy greeted with an un-spylike smile.  “It’s time to get up, the others are waiting.”  Having said her piece, and confident that Steve would comply post-haste, she turned and left just as quietly as she’d come, leaving Steve blinking wordlessly up at the ceiling.

 

After a moment, he sighed and sat up, a hand combing through his hair and leaving it sticking up in every direction.  Christmas morning.  Right.

 

Steve wasn’t sure he liked the modern Christmas.  There was simply too much of everything, and it was so commercial.  When he’d been a child, he’d been happy to get a bar of chocolate or baked cookies for the holiday, perhaps a new sweater or a warm pair of wool socks.  These days, it was all spend, spend, spend, on trinkets and knickknacks that serve no real purpose, useless novelties and flashy toys.

 

But there were some good things about it, too.  For one, there was plenty of food to go around, and there were even charities and organizations that helped to provide presents and meals for the underprivileged.  Steve had enjoyed volunteering at them in his abundance of spare time, the grateful smiles and childish laughter making something warm curl through his chest.  It took a bit of digging, but he quickly discovered that most of the local charities were run by the Maria Stark Foundation, which had been started by Tony’s mother, and which he had apparently continued to fund even after his parents’ deaths.

 

Climbing out of bed, Steve noticed the clothes sitting conspicuously on his dresser.  With a sigh, he grabbed them and headed for the bathroom for a quick shower.  Knowing that the others were waiting, he didn’t take any more time than necessary, though he did indulge in a couple of extra minutes under the warm spray, the heated water taking some of the constant chill from his bones.  Ever since the ice, Steve hadn’t liked the cold. Winters in New York weren’t exactly friendly, and Steve longed for warmer shores.  Maybe next year he’d try to convince Tony to have a Christmas party somewhere warmer.  Like California, or Florida.

 

Dressing obediently in the clothes that Natasha had laid out for him – a soft pair of sweatpants and a garish red and green sweater with the words “Christmas Has Been Suspended Long Enough” emblazoned across it in tacky white font.  Steve had no doubt that it had been Tony’s idea, though the fact that Natasha apparently found it funny didn’t bode well for him.

 

He traipsed downstairs, bypassing the kitchen even as his stomach rumbled warningly.  He’d have to eat later.  Instead, he headed for the large common room, already hearing the rumbles of conversation, interspersed with raucous laughter and quiet scolding.  Steve smiled; Phil must be here as well.

 

Bruce met him at the door as he walked in, handing him a plate full of finger foods – fruit and bacon mostly.  It wasn’t ideal, but it should tide him over for a while.  He smiled gratefully at the other man.  “Thanks, Bruce,” he murmured.

 

The mild-mannered scientist smiled back at him, and even managed to refrain from commenting on Steve’s sweater.  “You’re welcome, Steve,” he replied.  “I also have some cookies, if you’d like,” he said, holding out a small plastic bag that was indeed filled with a variety of cookies.  Steve’s eyes lit up; he didn’t normally have dessert this early, but Bruce’s snicker doodles were fantastic, like the ones his mother used to make when he was a child.

 

With his prizes clutched tightly in his hands – he wouldn’t put it past Tony to try and snag them for himself – Steve settled on one of the armchairs.  The other one was for Bruce, of course.

 

“Cap’s here!” Tony said, grinning widely at Pepper and Rhodey, who had come to join the festivities.  Sam, who was standing next to Rhodey, just rolled his eyes at Steve good-naturedly.   Even Bucky seemed to be reluctantly content, watching the others with a vaguely puzzled expression, not quite understanding what all the excitement was about.  Almost without conscious thought, the soldier wandered over to Steve’s chair, settling partway on the arm of the chair as he watched the others.

 

“Presents!” Tony demanded, already reaching for one with grabby fingers.

 

Pepper just gave him a look and a firm, “No, Tony,” and the billionaire desisted immediately, pouting up at the poised CEO.  “Sam has volunteered to hand out presents, so you can wait your turn.”  Tony scowled, but obligingly scooted back to the other man could get to the presents sitting under the tree.  Actually, they were sort of spilling out halfway across the floor, but Steve hadn’t really expected anything else.  Even with each of them limited to only buying one gift per person, that made for a lot of gifts overall.  Steve had found himself doing some covert snooping, occasionally with JARVIS’s discrete help, when trying to find gifts that everybody would like.

 

Perhaps feeling sorry for the genius – but more likely knowing that he’d whine otherwise – Sam scooched a decently sized wrapped rectangle towards Tony, who grinned gleefully as he set about tearing the paper.  Steve refrained from laughing when he saw the red and gold toolbox, but it didn’t faze Tony in the least.  Clever fingers had it unlatched and open in no time, his eyes widening as he looked at whatever was inside and then looked over at Bruce.  “Is this—“ he started, then stopped, staring awestruck at the other man.

 

Bruce smiled fondly at the other man.  “Yes, Tony.  You seemed interested when it came up, so I thought you might like one of your own,” he said, shrugging lightly.  Tony pulled out the present, and Steve looked at the long thin metal wand in confusion.  He had no doubt that it was something amazing, given the way that Tony was practically drooling over it, but he barely knew how to use general electronics, much less things as complicated as whatever Tony and Bruce had down in their workshops.

 

Tony just cradled the baton to his chest, crooning over it as Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and picked out another gift, handing this one over to Natasha.  It was a slender envelope, and Steve tensed as Natasha accepted it gracefully.  His hesitation didn’t slip past her, and she gave him a wry look as she neatly slit the envelope open with a knife she had pulled from somewhere.  Peering inside, she lifted out the contents – three tickets to the Moscow Ballet for their show here in New York.

 

She glanced over at him in surprise.  “Steve, this is…very nice.  Thank you,” she said, and it was sincere.  Steve felt his face heat up.  Natasha had never outright told anybody that she liked ballet, as far as he knew, but Steve had been watching her in combat for months now, and some of the moves reminded him more of a dancer than a fighter.  A bit of discrete digging by JARVIS had confirmed that Natasha had learned ballet as well as several types of martial arts.  The rest had been mostly guesswork and a prayer.

 

“I thought you could take…whoever you wanted, really,” he murmured, nodding at the three tickets Natasha held in her hands.  Honestly, he thought maybe she’d take Clint and Phil, but the archer was already making a face.  Phil remained as neutral as ever, and Steve wondered if the man even liked ballet.  Clint obviously didn’t.  Not that it really mattered, since the redhead was eyeing Bucky speculatively.

 

The low clearing of a throat caught his attention, and Steve glanced over at Sam, realizing that the man was holding out a small gift to him, grinning knowingly, well aware that his thoughts had been anywhere but here.  With a chagrined smile, Steve accepted the package, setting it on his lap before pulling apart the paper carefully, ignoring Tony’s complaints about slow Capsicles as he slipped the box out of the packaging and opened it, staring down at the small wallet insert filled with pictures.  Peggy was there, and Bucky.  All of the Howling Commandos. Howard Stark.  Even Colonel Phillip was there, staring solemnly back at him.  Somebody had gone through the trouble of pulling together old pictures and reprinting them to something smaller that he could carry with him.

 

Looking up, Steve met Phil’s eyes.  “I…thank you,” he managed, smiling shakily at the agent.

 

Phil smiled gently back at him.  “You’re welcome, Captain.  Steve,” he corrected, still a bit of a fanboy even months later.

 

Tony had leaned forward and craned his neck to see what Steve had gotten, but he wasn’t interested beyond that.  “Next,” he said, gesturing imperiously to Sam.

 

The pilot just grinned at Tony…and tossed a present over to Clint, who tore it into just as enthusiastically as Tony had.  Inside was a box of clothing, and Clint pulled the material out, sliding it through his hands as he examined it.  “This is…like what Thor wears, isn’t it?” he asked, holding one of the pieces up.  Sure enough, it was a shirt, cut in typical Asgardian fashion – if what Thor wore when he wasn’t in full battle armor was typical in his world – with strings lacing up at the neck.  The shirt was a sand brown color, and appeared to be form-fitting, but had no sleeves.

 

Clint grinned, giving the pants – which were of a darker brown – a quick look as well before standing and leaving the room, probably to change.  Thor wasn’t with them today, having opted to spend the day with his lady Jane and her friends, but he had embraced the holiday tradition eagerly and left them all presents under the tree before departing.

 

Steve nibbled on some of the fruit while he waited patiently for his turn, his eyes roaming over the group of individuals he now called his friends.  Tony was unsubtly trying to steal a cookie from Bruce’s plate.  It was obvious that Banner knew what he was up to, but he let him do it anyway.  Bruce was a terrible enabler when it came to Tony’s bad habits, but at the same time, Steve knew damn well that Tony would do absolutely anything – _anything_ – to keep Bruce safe and happy.  And what’s more, he had the resources and the intelligence to back it up.  Bruce needed a guy like Tony in his corner, and if it made him happy to indulge the billionaire now and again, who was Steve to complain?  He was occasionally guilty of the same.  They all were, on occasion.

 

Steve didn’t know the whole story between Tony and Natasha, other than that it had something to do with SHIELD planting her as a spy when Tony was off his game due to Palladium poisoning.  But ever since they had both wound up on the same team, Tony had accepted her.  Perhaps a bit more warily than the others, but he had never done or said anything to make her feel unwelcome.  Natasha, in turn, had taught Tony a lot in hand-to-hand combat, showing him how to use his slightly smaller frame to his advantage.  Even without the suit, Tony was a fighter – Steve had seen footage from JARVIS of his fight with the Mandarin – but now those skills were honed even further.

 

Tony and Clint had bonded pretty much instantly, much like the genius had done with Banner.  For a while there after the Chitauri invasion, Steve had worried about how Clint was going to handle the alleged death of his handler.  He still wasn’t sure what Tony had done or said to the other man, but more often than not, he’d find the two men keeping each other company over poker, both of them drunk off their asses and slurring their speech.  Natasha would join them sometimes, and slowly, over the next few months, Clint’s eyes grew less haunted. It helped, of course, that Tony kept him out of SHIELD’s clutches, bringing in his own psychiatrists to talk to the guilt-ridden archer.

 

Phil coming back had been a miracle, of course, but even without that, Steve was almost certain that Clint would have managed to move on, would have managed to smile again.  He was pretty sure that Tony had done a lot more than ply the former SHIELD agent with therapists and alcohol, but he had never asked, and neither of them had ever volunteered the information.  The end result, however, had been that Clint and Tony were now close friends, often snarking and bantering with other when they weren’t busy coming up with prank or devising new ways to get into trouble.

 

Thor had also been an instant favorite.  With his booming laugh and his guileless sincerity, none of the Avengers had disliked him.  Except for maybe Hulk, but Steve didn’t think that was anything personal.

 

Sam was much the same, with his calm acceptance of the craziness that was their lives and his willingness to help.  Of course, he had scored major points with Tony when he’d brought him the damaged EXO-7 Falcon Wings for repairs and upgrades.  Tony had practically salivated over them before grumbling about how Sam was such a good guy, and how Steve wouldn’t let him upgrade his shield.  Sam had taken it all in stride with a bemused smile and a quiet hum of interest.  Steve had barely seen him for the next three days, seeing as he’d been dragged down into the Stark and Banner Science Club, no super soldiers allowed.

 

Buck had come here because of Steve, but had stayed because of Natasha.  Steve still didn’t know what the two of them had talked about – his Russian wasn’t that good, and he didn’t want to ask JARVIS to translate, as that would be rude and underhanded – but the Winter Soldier had agreed to stay on for a time, at least until he figured out what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go.

 

That really just left Steve, who was still unsure of his standing with the engineer.  Tony liked to tease him, and sometimes it seemed almost like he was flirting, but there was a sharp edge to it that Steve didn’t know how to respond to.  It seemed like half the time when he tried, they ended up getting into an argument instead.  Sometimes Bruce or Pepper would be around and would translate for them, which only worsened the feeling of speaking two different languages.  Both of them told him the same thing, too; be patient, Tony’s not good at talking about emotions, or much of anything that isn’t science, to be honest.  He often found himself wondering what advice they gave to Tony about him.

 

He was snapped out of his musings by Tony dropping a present impatiently in his lap – and stealing a cookie.  Steve scowled at him, and he shrugged.  “You snooze, you lose, Freezer Pop,” he sniffed.

 

Steve just sighed, shifting the cookies over to the other side of him and nibbling on one absently as he eyed the package sitting in his lap.  It was well-wrapped and didn’t seem likely to explode when he opened it, so it probably wasn’t from Tony.  Slipping the rest of the cookie into his mouth, enjoying the familiar taste, Steve set about opening his gift.  He smiled when he realized what they were – more Asgardian garments, though his were in varying shades of blue, rather than the tans and browns of Clint’s.  The archer had been right; the material was very, very soft, but a lot sturdier than it looked, judging by the way it held when he gave it a gentle tug.

 

“Oh, goodie, more clothes,” Tony rolled his eyes, but Steve wasn’t fooled; the genius was hoping he got the same thing.  Maybe in red or gold.  “All right, Fly Boy, next,” he demanded impatiently, and Sam went back to distributing gifts, giving Steve time to look at what the others had opened.

 

Natasha was wearing a delicate chain on her ankle with an arrow that matched her necklace.  Clint was idly shifting what Steve thought might be a dart from hand to hand, his eyes intent as he got a feel for them.  Bruce had his nose buried in a book.  Judging by its cover, it was very old, very rare, and very well-kept.

 

Bucky reached down absently and took a cookie from Steve, who allowed it with a quiet smiled; Bucky eating on his own was a very good thing, no matter what it was, and Steve wasn’t about to bring it to his attention if he didn’t know he was doing it, or he might stop.  The dark-haired man was turning over a small wooden box with tiny tools in it.  Steve recognized them as tools that Tony had used to repair his cybernetic arm after it had been damaged.  He was giving Bucky the means to take care of his arm himself if he needed to, or wanted to.

 

Pepper was admiring the small portrait that Steve had made for her.  In it, she was standing in front of a large wooden desk from one of the offices in the Lower Manhattan office, her hands on her hips and her expression one of fond exasperation.  Tony had been more eccentric than usual that day, sleep deprived, over caffeinated, and babbling a mile a minute.  Pepper hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise, and Steve had offered her his most sheepish ‘aw shucks’ grin.  Pepper had waved off his apology and gone back to waiting Tony out, that same expression on her face.  Steve hadn’t been able to resist drawing it later.

 

Rhodey was admiring something or other – probably something for the Iron Patriot armor that Steve wouldn’t know anything about.  He had gotten his gifts the night before, though, so whatever it was, he had brought it down with him that morning.

 

Phil was opening his first gift of the day – Steve felt sort of guilty that he’d opened two now – and Steve recognized the wrapping, suddenly nervous as he watched Phil pull away the wrapping paper and stare down at what lay inside.  A moment later, he looked up at Steve, his eyes awestruck and maybe a bit damp.  “Thank you, Captain,” he murmured.  Steve nodded back in reply, relaxing a bit and offering the agent a tentative smile.

 

Cradled carefully in Phil’s hands was a full set of Captain America cards, signed by Steve.  The cards had been in with his effects when Tony had brought him boxes full of memorabilia and personal possessions, left there by Howard Stark or one of the Howling Commandos – Tony didn’t know or care.  Having no use for them himself, he had remembered the ones that Nick Fury had ruined, and decided that while it might not be the same, perhaps this was something that Phil would like.

 

 The rest of the gift-giving went smoothly after that, the large room filled with laughter and teasing.  At some point, Natasha left the room for a short while.  When she came back, she had a tray filled with mugs of hot chocolate.  Steve didn’t know what all she had mixed in it – something like peppermint and something sweet, at the very least – but it was delicious, and the warm drink was very welcome.  Even Tony accepted it eagerly enough.  It probably had nothing to do with Natasha’s deadly glare when she offered him a cup.  Probably.

 

When all of the presents had been passed out except for one last batch, Steve looked down at his presents contentedly.  Beyond the Asgardian finery and the pictures, he had received a communicator from Natasha that had coordinates on it – she wouldn’t tell him what they were for, but Phil seemed to recognize them and approve.  Clint had given him – and Bruce – a set of keys that apparently belonged to a farm somewhere in Idaho.  When Tony had complained that he didn’t get a key, Clint had pointed out, quite truthfully, that Tony wasn’t to be trusted with things like somebody else’s keys.  Hell, half the time, Tony couldn’t keep track of his _cars_.

 

Bruce had presented him with tickets to a museum exhibit that was currently in Philadelphia for another two months.  Steve was already busy planning a road trip, eyeing Bucky, wondering if the other man would like to maybe go with him.  He was pretty sure Sam was up for it, and he’d probably invite Bruce along as well, since he was the one who gave him the tickets in the first place.

 

Natasha had gotten a book of Russian Fairytales from Bruce.  For a moment after she opened the wrapping, Steve had wondered if she was going to cry.  He hadn’t realized how much something like that might mean to her, since she maintained that love was for children. Surely fairytales were, too?  Then again, shortly after he had awoken from the ice, Bruce had given him a book of Grimm Fairytales.  The true stories, not the child-friendly ones.  Fairytales weren’t always as mild and light-hearted as the term might suggest. In fact, some of them were downright morbid.

 

Phil had gotten her throwing knives – a fair trade for the well-kept, collectible gun she had gotten for him, and Thor had indeed gotten her clothes as well, though they were cut for a female, in black with some tasteful red accents in the form of tie strings.

 

Even Bucky had gotten some new weapons, and a nice pair of combat boots, since his previous ones were nearly worn through.  Gloves, too, and Steve felt warm inside thinking about how easily the others had accepted the Winter Soldier as one of them.  No, not the Winter Soldier.  They had accepted Bucky, the childhood friend of Steve Rogers, a good soldier and a good man.

 

The trick arrows that Clint got from Bruce went well with the new leather bracers that Steve had picked out for him, after asking JARVIS, Natasha, and Phil for help with sizing and weight preference.  He had wanted to make sure that he got only the best for their team’s archer.  Clint had nearly swooned when he’d seen them, so Steve guessed that he’d done pretty well with his choice.

 

Bruce had seemed faintly surprised by his own gifts, and Steve wondered what he’d been expecting.  Meditation props, maybe?  Instead, he was presented with various things that the others knew he’d like.  Natasha had found a local place that sold proper teas from India.  She had bought him a full tea set, as well as a variety of different flavors.  Bruce looked at the attached business card interestedly before thanking Natasha with a quiet smile that the redhead returned.

 

He had also gotten a key to Clint’s farm.  When he thanked the archer, his tone surprised and touched, Clint had just waved him off.  “Naw, man, don’t worry about it,” he dismissed casually.  “I just…know what it’s like to need to get away sometimes,” he admitted softly, then nodded at the key in Bruce’s hands.  “I just thought you might like to have a safe place if it’s just space that you need.”  Bruce gazed down at the key for a long moment, then slipped it into his back pocket, making Clint grin widely and relax.

 

Steve hadn’t really been sure what to get the mild-mannered scientist.  Tony kept plying him with new clothes and fancy toys, but Steve knew about the knapsack he kept hidden in a corner of his closet.  That bag held the most important things to Bruce, the things that would go with him if he ever fled the Tower.  Steve hoped it never happened, but if it did, he wanted the other man to be ready.  So he had done quite a bit of footwork until he had found a suitable replacement for the worn thing in Bruce’s room.  It was new, but it wasn’t obviously new, or expensive.  It was a simple bag, colored a dull tan.  But the material was soft, and the inside was reinforced.  Steve had let JARVIS scan it, and the AI had confirmed that it would likely hold up under a considerable amount of stress.

 

Tony made a surprised, upset noise when he saw it, but Bruce had just offered Steve a happy, grateful smile.  “This is perfect,” he said, nimble fingers already opening it to explore the inside, his free hand rubbing lightly against the buttery-soft leather.

 

Steve shrugged easily.  “I thought it might come in handy someday,” he replied.  Not that he wanted Banner to run, but he was a soldier, and he was well aware that sometimes you ran because it was all you could do.  Bruce would stay here for as long as he was able to, but if the day ever came that he felt that either he or the others were in danger because of the Hulk’s presence, Bruce would leave.  Steve – and undoubtedly Tony – would do everything in their power to bring him back, but that wouldn’t stop that initial bolt for obscurity, and when that day came, Steve wanted Bruce to have only the best.

 

Bruce was peeking inside and had discovered the other small gift that had been tucked inside.  It had actually been Bucky’s idea, and Steve said as much when Bruce pulled out the small drawing.  It was of him in his lab, staring into a microscope with his body angled slightly to the side so that he could listen with half an ear to Tony’s rambling chatter.  He had been relaxed in that picture, his expression serene as he jotted notes with one hand on a nearby notepad.  It was the first time Steve had been down to the labs while both men were in there, and he had gotten a better feel for how the two of them worked together.  It had been something to see, watching the easy movement of the two men around each other and listening to the seamless flow of conversation from one topic to another.   When Steve had left, he had gone straight to his studio to sketch it out.

 

Bucky had discovered his sketchpads some months ago and had encouraged Steve to share them with the others.  Not sure that he was comfortable with the idea of being subjected to the others’ scrutiny, Steve had decided to test the waters a bit, and so had settled on Bruce as the test subject.

 

Before Bruce could comment, Tony had reached over and snagged the drawing out of his hands, staring at it intently before looking over at Steve.  “June?” he asked.  “When we were studying the alien slime.”  Everybody grimaced at the reminder; the slime had gotten absolutely everywhere.  It hadn’t helped that the aliens were not only covered in it, but had also spit it.  Tony had dismantled and melted down the Iron Man suit, declaring it a biohazard.  Steve hadn’t argued; he had just asked Tony for the strongest cleaner he had for his shield.  The two men had gotten to work developing the most effective solution pretty much immediately, which is why Steve had gotten to witness them working together, since he usually wasn’t allowed down in the labs without permission.

 

Steve nodded at Tony in affirmation, then twisted around so he could see Phil.  The agent was holding up a pendant of some sort, made of a gold material with a thin wire surrounding a small stone that seemed to be glowing.  “What’s that?” he asked, then grimaced at the tactless question.

 

Phil smiled over at him, not the least bit offended.  “According to Thor, it’s a protection amulet created by his mother before her passing,” he answered succinctly.

 

Tony snorted.  “Everybody wants to protect you, huh?” he asked, and Steve realized it was true.  From weapons to protective gear to magical amulets, he was probably the only one who had gotten the man something less practical and more whimsical.  He felt bad for a moment, but Phil just smiled more widely at him, and Steve relaxed, knowing that he’d appreciated the cards even more.

 

Sam had his own small pile of presents, ranging from weaponry to a handheld video console.  He was still new to the team, so nobody really knew what to get him, but they hadn’t wanted to leave him out, either.  Steve made a mental note to see if he could get the man’s birthday out of him.  He had some ideas about what might make a good present for the pilot.

 

Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey had celebrated their own Christmas the night before.  Steve wasn’t sure of the proper protocol here.  Should he have gotten them gifts as well?  But they didn’t get gifts for the rest of them, unless they pitched in with whatever Tony had bought, though that didn’t seem likely.

 

Speaking of genius billionaires, Steve watched as Tony scooted over to sit next to Bruce, holding out a square of some sort of metal that was about as large as his shield.  He cocked his head; he’d never seen metal like that before.

 

Tony looked up and caught him staring, grinning widely as he held the metal square up.  “Uru,” he stated proudly.  “A metal from the Dwarves of Nidavellir.  It’s the same material that Thor’s hammer is made out of.”  Steve felt his eyes widen as he stared again at the unassuming metal that had been used to create one of Asgard’s greatest weapons.

 

It was Pepper who got Tony’s attention again with a roll of her eyes.  “You still have presents to give out,” she told him archly.  Tony offered her a sheepish grin, and she just sighed in mock irritation.  “How did you ever manage before?” she asked.

 

Tony grinned.  “By hiding in the basement, mostly,” he admitted wryly.  “And by creating JARVIS, who would actually, you know, remind me to eat on occasion.”  That got a round of laughter from the gathered group of friends.

 

Tony clapped his hands, holding them out to Pepper, who handed him a stack of envelopes.  Rhodey was dragging a box into the room at the same time.  With an air of feigned seriousness, Tony distributed his gifts.

 

Natasha and Clint both got a key, and they looked over at Tony with raised eyebrows.  The billionaire just flashed them a charming smile.  “Romanov’s gift is in the garage.  Clint’s is outside,” he hinted.  Before the two assassins could grab him and make him talk, JARVIS helpfully flipped up two holographic images that spun around lazily.

 

“ _Bozhe moj_ ,” Natasha breathed softly as she looked at the gorgeously sleek motorcycle, painted all black except for the small red hourglasses displayed on the front and sides.  Clint just let out a loud whoop as he stared at the Quinjet for a moment before turning away.  Phil and Natasha both grabbed him before he could dash out onto the roof and take the bird for a spin.

 

“Later, Clint,” Phil told him sternly in his ‘I mean business’ voice, and Clint subsided with a small pout.  Tony was looking decidedly smug as he handed out envelopes to the agent and Bruce, who accepted them warily.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s not that much,” he snarked.

 

Pepper and Rhodey both snorted.  “You’re only saying that because you have more money than you know what to do with, Tone,” Rhodey pointed out pragmatically.  Tony just shrugged and pulled a face, but subsided and watched quietly as the two men opened up their own gifts.

 

Phil got a key as well, and when JARVIS threw up an image of a bright red convertible, his eyes widened.  “Is that…?” he breathed, his hand reaching out as if to touch the incorporeal vehicle.

 

Tony nodded smugly.  “Lola?  Yeah.  I found the blueprints in dad’s things, and since you sort of crashed her, I thought I’d fix her.  She’s got some nifty upgrades now,” he added eagerly.

 

Phil seemed to consider that for a long moment before nodding approvingly.  “Thank you, Tony,” he murmured.  “That’s very kind of you.”  Tony shrugged off the gratitude, obviously uncomfortable with it.

 

He turned to Bruce.  “Well, Brucie?” he asked.  “Do you like it?”

 

Bruce just stared at him with a faintly hunted expression.  “The lab, I sort of get, Tony, though I honestly don’t need a lab that’s completely my own.  But what’s the military base for?”

 

“Oh? So you did buy it,” Phil commented mildly.  Seven pairs of eyes swung over to stare at him in surprise, and he blinked.  “It’s a decommissioned military base, has been for years.  Mr. Stark kept indicating that he wanted a place where Doctor Banner could let the Hulk out intentionally if he chose to, and since it’s in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any populated areas, I suggested that it might be a sound investment.”

 

“So if you don’t like it, blame Agent,” Tony added, grinning at Bruce.

 

The other man stared some more, but finally nodded, with a small, “All right.  Thank you, Tony.”

 

Since Thor wasn’t here, Tony couldn’t give him his cube of Vibranium – Steve had no idea where the other man had gotten that much of it – so that just left Steve and Sam.  Sam got a new pair of Falcon wings.  The feathers were made of something that Tony called ‘hard light’ and could be removed from their casing, acting like throwing blades.  They would then immediately be replaced by new feathers.  It was obvious that Sam was eager to try them out, and Steve had no doubt that he and Clint would be taking to the skies just as soon as they could get away with it.

 

Bucky had received his present three days earlier – a new cybernetic arm that attached properly into the nerve endings in his shoulder.  Steve didn’t entirely understand it, but apparently, Tony and Bruce had come up with a net-like interface that communicated sensation to the arm and hand, so that Bucky could feel things like pressure and temperature.  The man had spent the next two days wandering around in something of a daze, touching everything as he got used to having two hands that could feel sensations.

 

Steve’s gift was the last one, and when Rhodey nudged the boxes towards him, he glanced over at Tony, noting that the other man seemed nervous.  The brunette gave him a careful smile.  “Merry Christmas, Steve,” he murmured, and the soldier looked away before he started blushing.  He never knew quite what to make of the other man.  Most of the time, he was loud and obnoxious and kind of carefree, but then something would shift and he’d be quieter, more introspective.  Steve wondered if those small glances into a gentler Tony Stark were more real than what was normally presented, or if both were equally as true.

 

Reaching out, he opened the box and stared down at the tape reels.  They had new labels on them, written in Tony’s blocky engineer’s script.  _1942 Manhattan_ , _1942 Chicago_ , _1943 Italy_.  Steve recognized the dates.  They were all USO tours from the war, before he had gone haring off after Bucky and the rest of the 104 th and become Captain America in more than just name.  There were dozens of them.

 

“What is this?” he asked softly.  He gave Tony a stern look when the billionaire would have likely opened his mouth to make some snide comment about his age.

 

Tony’s mouth snapped shut with the click of teeth.  “They’re your USO tapes. I sort of…bought the right to the originals, and then bought the copyrights to the copies that have been made.  All of them,” he admitted.  “So you can do whatever you want with them, nobody’s allowed to show them commercially.  I can’t do anything about people who have private copies, though,” he added, “unless they’ve transferred them to disc or something, in which case I can JARVIS erase them.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “I…no, that’s fine,” he said at last, not really sure what he wanted to say.  He had always been embarrassed, knowing that his pathetically stupid acting was out there for anyone to see.  The last Fourth of July had been horrible, and his time with the USO tour girls had been the topic of a lot of speculation.  Even interviews of the Avengers inevitably drifted back around to the tapes.  He hadn’t realized that Tony had noticed his discomfort.

 

“Thanks, Tony,” he murmured sincerely, looking up and meeting the other man’s eyes. “This means a lot to me.” To his confusion, Tony looked away, his cheeks darkening slightly.  Steve just frowned lightly, his eyes drawn back to the unobtrusive box after a moment.  He had never really spared any thoughts about them, but now that they were sitting there in front of him, his hands itched to take a look, to see what memories they might bring back.

 

He glanced over at Bucky.  His friend hadn’t seen him when he was doing the stupid tour, but perhaps he’d enjoy watching the video reels anyhow.  If nothing else, the time period and surroundings should be familiar.

 

Slowly, the group started breaking up.  Tony dragged Bruce down to see his brand new lab – it apparently had his name etched onto the door and everything.  Clint and Sam took off outside to try out their new toys.  Phil made his apologies and left – he had to go check on the rest of his new team, and spend the afternoon with them before they shipped out again.  Pepper and Rhodey were already talking business, and Bucky had simply disappeared at some point.

 

Steve sighed, looking down at the box of tape reels longingly.  He wanted to go through them all, as embarrassing as they might be, before deciding what to do with them, but he didn’t know how to play them.

 

 _“If I might make a suggestion, Captain,”_ JARVIS spoke up, his tone quiet so as to not startle the soldier, _“a reel projector was delivered to your personal quarters an hour ago,  if you would care to use it.”_

 

Steve smiled gratefully up at the ceiling, knowing that JARVIS wasn’t necessarily there, but needing something to focus on.  “Yeah, that would be good,” he answered, picking up his box of gifts and heading for the elevator.  “Thanks, JARVIS.”

 

 _“I assure you, Captain, it is my pleasure,”_ the AI replied warmly, taking the elevator up to Steve’s floor.  The reel projector was sitting in the middle of the living room.  It was familiar to Steve, and he chose a reel at random from the box, popping it in.  He was surprised at the quality of the video, and realized that it was probably more JARVIS’s doing than anything else.  Even the sound was crisp and clear.

 

Thirty seconds later, he was blushing in mortification.  He had known that he wasn’t any good at acting, but he hadn’t realized he was _that_ bad.  No wonder the soldiers had jeered at him and demanded that the girls be sent back out.  Steve was glad, now, that Bucky wasn’t here to see this.  Not that he wouldn’t show them to him if Bucky asked, of course, but it was still embarrassing.

 

When that reel ended, an agonizing fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds later, Steve pulled it off and set it to the side.  Deciding that he might as well take a look through the rest of them and see if he could put them in any sort of order – maybe he hadn’t gotten better after his initial fumbling attempts where he didn’t even know his lines, but he doubted it – Steve started reading the titles printed on each of the reels.  Some of the places on there, he remembered. Others weren’t familiar at all, but only one reel casing caught his attention.  It was labeled _1943 France_.  He hadn’t done a show in France in 1943.  Shortly after the show in Italy, he had gone behind enemy lines and finally become the super soldier he’d been intended as from the beginning.  This was the only reel that didn’t make sense.

 

Setting it carefully on the projector, Steve started up the machine.  The reason that the label didn’t make any sense was clear soon enough.  Tony had done it deliberately, obviously hoping that he’d either figure it out, or get around to watching it eventually.  As Steve watched, the picture came up, color and sound obviously modern.  Tony’s workshop was in the background, and the genius himself was sitting on a round stool, nervously rotating it from side to side, fiddling with a wrench in his hands, which were dark and covered in motor oil.  Apparently, he’d been working on a car when he made this, and Steve found himself straightening.  Tony only worked on the cars when he had something important to work out.  The last time he’d done that, he’d broken up with Pepper.

 

“Hey, there, Cap.  Steve. Umm…” Tony trailed off.  “JARVIS, are you recording this?  Because I’m not doing this again if you aren’t,” the genius grumbled.  JARVIS’s voice sounded in the background, reassuring Tony that yes, he was dutifully recording the message, if sir would like to get on with the proceedings, seeing as he had a business meeting with Miss Potts in forty minutes.

 

Tony rolled his eyes and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath about sassy AIs, then refocused.  “So yeah, anyhow, if you’re seeing this, then I guess I managed to give you your presents without screwing it up.  I was going to do something a bit more…me, but Pepper vetoed it, so you get this instead. I hope it doesn’t take you too long. I made it kinda obvious, I think, but my obvious and everybody else’s isn’t always the same.  Except for Bruce’s, because he’s awesome like that.”

 

Away from prying eyes – Tony had reassured them that JARVIS only did passive scanning on their floors, and wouldn’t actively record anything unless they asked him to – Steve allowed himself to grin widely at the familiar ramblings of a man with too many different idea tracks, too many feelings, and no appropriate way to cope with said feelings.  Tony got distracted much easier when things like emotion were brought up, preferring to talk about anything else until the person he was talking to forgot what they’d been trying to say in the first place.

 

Unfortunately for the genius, it didn’t work on most of the people he’d surrounded himself with. Natasha and Phil were too professional to be sidetracked, Pepper and Rhodey had been dealing with the man for years, Bucky just stared at him creepily until he got back on track, and Sam had the patience of a saint and could redirect a conversation without his target even realizing he was doing it.  Bruce could be distracted if the science was awesome enough, though he made it clear that he knew what Tony was up to when he did that.  And Clint hated talking about feelings and things just as much as Tony, so the both of them would deflect to anything else to avoid those conversations.

 

And Steve?  When he didn’t let himself follow Tony into an argument, he was very good at reading between the lines and understanding what Tony wasn’t saying.  But the other man gave him mixed signals sometimes, which confused him, which made him irritable because he didn’t know if the man was telling him yes or no half the time.  And so he held his tongue and waited.  Maybe this video would clear some things up between the two of them, if he was lucky.  Otherwise, he’d just be listening to Tony chatter away for the next several minutes or several hours, depending on the man’s mood at the time he’d made this recording.

 

Tony took a deep breath on the screen, cutting himself off.  “Look,” he said at last, sighing deeply.  “I guess that what I’m trying to say is that…I like you.  As in, like-like,” he clarified, and Steve couldn’t suppress the amused snort. Tony sounded like a grade school kid telling the girl whose pigtails he kept pulling that he really liked her and just wanted her attention.

 

Tony was wavering, dark eyes flickering everywhere but at the camera as he licked his lips, and Steve wondered if it would stop there.  He kind of hoped not, because this was what he’d been waiting to hear for months now; a label on what they were to each other.  Sure, they argued a lot, often childishly.  But when they weren’t fighting, the two of them actually got along pretty well.  Tony helped him catch up on modern technology faster than he would have if he’d been left on his own, and he doesn’t even tease him that much.  They fight well on the battlefield together, even if Tony does talk too much over the comms.  Their life has more or less become a peaceful coexistence with each other and with the rest of the team.

 

“Bruce says that I should just tell you, and Pepper agrees, so I will,” he said, his lip curling down into a tiny scowl. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was about five years old, and after I met you, I learned that everything dad said about you was actually true.  You’re brave and funny and reckless and loyal.  I’m not really any of those things – I’m sure you’ve read my file, even if Fury didn’t show the others the full report, and most of it is true.”  Steve wondered what bits weren’t true, though he had a pretty strong suspicion.  “So…I guess what I want to say, really, is that I really like you – I’ve said that already, haven’t I? – and I’d like to, maybe, take you out to dinner or something?”

 

Steve felt his eyebrows rise nearly to his hairline.  Tony was asking for an actual date, not just a rough and tumble between the sheets?  Maybe he really was more serious about this than Steve had realized.

 

Tony huffed out an irritated breath.  “There.  I’ve said it, they can stop bugging me and start bugging you,” he grumbled.  He turned his head to look directly at the camera and offered Steve a small but genuine smile.  “Merry Christmas, Steve,” he said, and the video ended suddenly, silence falling.

 

Steve wasn’t sure how long he sat there, considering.  He played the video two more times, watching Tony’s face even as he listened to his words, aware that Tony was being as open and honest as he knew how to be, not hiding anything.  Steve found himself going back over previous interactions with Tony, twisting them in his head to fit into this new perspective, trying to pinpoint when, exactly, Tony had fallen in love with him.  Was that the reason he’d broken up with Pepper?  At the time, the genius had said simply that he couldn’t give her what she deserved, but Steve wondered if there was more to it than that, if perhaps Tony had let her go because he felt guilty over his feelings for Steve.

 

There were the others to consider as well.  Would Bucky accept it?  Not that he should care overly much if the other man didn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that Bucky was still the Winter Soldier.  If he wanted to do something about it, then he would.  Did Pepper and Rhodey know about Tony’s feelings?  Steve suspected that Pepper, at least, might.  And what about the rest of the team? Would accepting Tony’s confession affect how they worked together?

 

Eventually, he realized that he couldn’t base his decision on anybody else’s possible reactions.  If he wanted to give this – whatever it was – a chance, wanted to see if maybe his and Tony’s relationship could become something more, something beneficial to them both, then he would have to accept that there might be consequences that he couldn’t account for.  So the real question was…did he want this?

 

He thought about the way Tony worked in the shop, his body and face animated as he snapped orders to JARVIS, the bots, Bruce, even Steve if he was nearby and convenient.  He thought about the tiny quirks Tony had, like not wanting to be handed stuff.  Pepper and Rhodey could hand him things, though.  So could Bruce.  And, Steve realized with a jolt of surprise, the genius would accept items from him, too.  It had just seemed so natural the first time Tony had demanded a tiny precision tool, his arm buried in the Iron Man suit as he fiddled with something or other, and Steve had held it out for Tony to take.  There hadn’t even been a hint of hesitation; Tony had just taken it from his hands and promptly stuck it in his mouth.

 

Steve thought about the way Tony was in battle, all snark and heart.  He might sound callous and abrasive over the coms, but he listened to orders when it was important, and when he didn’t, it was because he knew a better way.  And he had taken several hits protecting their teammates, most notably Clint and even Natasha, though Steve suspected that the one time with Doctor Doom’s bots might have been his fault.

 

Steve took the bad things into consideration, too.  The way that Tony didn’t bother with sleep or food most of the time; his tendency to overdose on caffeine; his willingness to flaunt authority and turn any expression of concern into an argument; the drinking and the sleeping around, both of which he had seriously cut back on.  Steve was under no illusion that undertaking a relationship with Tony would be all sunshine and roses, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, the benefits were more than worth the risks associated with dating a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.

 

His decision made, Steve stood up, squaring his shoulders in determination.  “JARVIS?” he asked. “Where’s Tony?”

 

 _“Sir is in the second garage, Captain,”_ JARVIS answered, and Steve realized that either the AI had told Tony that he had found the tape, or Tony had guessed on his own.  If he was working on cars, then that meant that he was nervous, and there was only one thing Steve could think of that would make him nervous.

 

“Thank you,” he replied, stepping into the elevator and pushing the button for Tony’s private garage.  When he stepped out, he could hear AC/DC blasting out from somewhere, the sound echoing around the garage in a cacophony of unintelligible noise.  “JARVIS, could you turn it down, please?” he shouted, struggling to be heard over the noise.

 

Either the AI could read lips, or he was able to extrapolate from Steve’s initial flinch, because the music dropped to a far more acceptable level, quiet enough that Steve could hear Tony ordering JARVIS to turn the volume back up.  _“I apologize, sir, but Captain Rogers has asked to speak with you, and the noise level did not seem conducive to that purpose.”_   Steve was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the smug undertones in JARVIS’s voice.

 

Tony whirled around with wide eyes and a surprised, “Steve!” and the soldier got a good look at him, his lips twitching as he held in the laughter that threatened to come out and put Tony on the defensive before they even got anywhere.  Tony’s hair was sticking up in spikes, a few strands falling into his eyes.  He swiped at them impatiently, leaving a smudge of black on his forehead, to go with the black already staining his arms and tank top.  He had changed into a pair of ratty jeans, with random rips and tears in them, covered in paint spatters, grease, and something that looked suspiciously like the green shakes that Dummy would make for him on occasion – remnants from the palladium poisoning, according to Natasha.

 

Tony had gotten over his initial surprise and was eyeing him grumpily.  Giving an irritable sigh, he waved his hand at the blond.  “Go ahead and laugh before you but something,” he suggested, and Steve allowed himself to chuckle for a moment before giving Tony his most charming smile as he strode forward, more confident now than he’d been a moment before.  Tony hadn’t kicked him out, and had, in fact, encouraged him in a bit of light-hearted humor at his expense.

 

“You look like you’ve been having fun,” he murmured, stepping up next to the car – painted a bright orange – and leaning against it, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his hip cocked as he tipped his head down to look at Tony.  If he hadn’t already known the effect that he had on people when he did certain things, the genius confirmed it for him, his eyes darkening and his tongue flicking out as he swallowed reflexively.

 

“Uh, yeah, fun,” he managed to get out after a moment.  He nodded decisively, then growled when another strand of hair fell into his face.

 

Without waiting for permission, Steve reached out and brushed it back and out of the way.  Tony froze, and Steve let his hand linger as he watched the other man for signs of anger or panic.  Tony seemed nervous and uncertain, but there was hope there, too, and Steve was glad that the other man was going to give him a chance.

 

“I’m glad,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to cup Tony’s cheek for a brief moment before sliding away as he straightened back up.  “But that’s not what I came down here to talk to you about,” he admitted wryly.

 

Tony snorted.  “No, I don’t suppose it is,” he replied.  He held up a hand, forestalling Steve’s response.  “You watched the tape?” he asked.  Steve nodded, holding his tongue and humoring the other man.  Tony nodded back.  “Good.  So, in the interest of avoiding all the mushy, sentimental crap, let’s just get this over with.  Yes or no?” 

 

Steve stayed silent for a moment, watching as Tony steeled himself, slowly pulling away as he obviously anticipated a rejection.  Then he smiled.  “Yes, Tony,” he said softly.

 

The genius blinked up at him slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the unexpected answer.  “Yeah?” he asked, almost shyly, his face breaking out into a wide, hopeful smile.  It made him look years younger, and Steve realized with a jolt that he’d never seen this particular smile directed at himself before.  Tony sometimes smiled at Pepper that way, or Bruce, but never Steve.

 

Unable to help himself, he reached out and pulled a startled billionaire into his arms, wrapping him up tightly.  “Wait, wait a minute,” Tony protested.  “I’m filthy.”

 

Steve laughed, burying his face in strands of dark hair.  “I know,” he answered lightly.  “I don’t mind.”

 

Tony subsided with a grumbled, “Fine, but don’t blame me when it doesn’t come out of your clothes.” 

 

Using the fingers of his right hand to gently nudge Tony’s face upwards, Steve smiled at the genius, infuriating, vulnerable, impossible man in his arms.  “Merry Christmas, Tony Stark,” he murmured softly, closing the distance between them and drawing Tony into a gentle kiss, which the smaller man returned eagerly, his arms wrapping firmly around Steve’s neck, as if to hold him there.  Steve found that he didn’t mind.

 

The two of them traded kisses back and forth, surrounded by cars and tools and the sound of a band that Steve didn’t know, content to stay there forever.  Or, at least, for quite a while, Steve admitted to himself, well aware that the two of them couldn’t exactly stay down here in the garage interminably.  He was distracted from his thoughts by a well-placed nibble on his lower lip, and Steve turned his attention back to what he was doing.

 

Neither of them noticed the chime of the elevator, and it wasn’t until Clint spoke up that they even realized anybody else was down here.  “Aw, c’mon!  Christmas, really?” he demanded loudly, startling the two men currently making out in the middle of the garage.

 

Steve startled away guiltily, feeling a flush creep up his face, while Tony just glared at the archer.  “Dammit, Barton!” he snapped. “I’m busy!  Go mope somewhere else,” he ordered.

 

Clint snorted, holding up his hands.  “Naw, I’m not complaining about you two getting together,” he protested.  “But I was banking on New Year’s.  Nat just won thirty bucks,” he sighed.

 

Tony made a sound of outrage, and Steve stared at him stupidly for a minute.  Clint just grinned cheerfully, waiting for him to spit the words out.  “You were betting on when Tony and I would – ?” he trailed off.

 

Clint nodded.  “Yup!  In case you haven’t noticed, the two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now.  Even Thor noticed.  It was kind of sickening,” he added bluntly.  Steve just blushed harder, mortified, but Tony rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he grumbled.  “JARVIS?”

 

 _“Yes, sir,”_ JARVIS answered promptly.

 

Tony grinned wickedly.  “Transfer this message to SHIELD, would you?  Cap and I would appreciate it if they could avoid calling us for anything short of a world-ending disaster, because we fully intend to take advantage of the holiday by going at it like bunnies.”

 

 _“Of course, sir,”_ JARVIS replied drolly.  _“Would you like me to send along a picture, just to make sure that your meaning is clear?”_

 

Tony grinned wickedly, and Steve grabbed him, covering his mouth as he pulled him back against his chest.  “Cancel that, JARVIS,” he ordered.

 

The AI was definitely laughing at him when he replied, _“Of course, Captain.”_

Tony mouthed something against his hand that sounded suspiciously like ‘traitor’, then licked a short stripe across his hand.  Steve grimaced and pulled his hand back, looking over at Clint, who was watching them with a gleeful look in his eyes, no doubt planning to spill the beans as soon as he got back upstairs.  “Is there something we can help you with, Clint?” he asked politely.

 

“The answer to that is ‘no’, Barton,” Tony warned him. 

 

The archer just grinned and shrugged.  “Well, I was just going to ask you two if you wanted to come up for breakfast,” he said cheerfully, “but I can make your excuses and tell them you’re currently banging Captain America, if you’d like.”

 

Steve’s eyes widened in near-panic as he looked to Tony, who was rolling his eyes.  “We’ll be up, Barton,” he grumbled.  “And for the record, I’m pretty sure I’ve got to take him on at least three dates before we get to that part.  Isn’t that an unspoken rule or something?”  He winked at Steve, who relaxed a bit.  Dates were fine, they were good.  The rest of it…he’d just have to see.  He wasn’t a prude, exactly, but he didn’t want a casual fling or a one-night stand, either.  From the video he’d watched, it didn’t seem like Tony wanted that anyhow, but he’d have to make sure things were clear between them before he agreed to be taken to the other man’s bed.

 

Clint just grinned.  “All right, I’ll let them know.”  With a saucy salute at Steve, Clint turned around and walked back into the elevator.

 

Silence fell between the two men once again, until Tony finally spoke.  “Why didn’t he just ask JARVIS to transfer the message?” he asked at last.  The two men shared a look, both of them a ragged, grease-smeared mess.  Tony’s lips twitched, and Steve lost it completely, the laughter loud and relieved.  Tony echoed him, and the two men braced each other up as they allowed the laughter to overtake them.

 

They eventually calmed down a bit, and Tony sighed, looking down at himself.  “Guess I ought to get cleaned up before Natasha and Pepper kill me for walking into the kitchen dirty,” he said reluctantly.

 

Steve smiled.  “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, planning to get cleaned up himself.  Tony looked up at him, and Steve found himself hoping that the genius wasn’t about to invite him into the shower with him.  He was nowhere near ready for that kind of intimacy.

 

“See you in the kitchen?” Tony asked instead, and Steve breathed out quietly in relief.  Judging by the amused quirk of Tony’s eyebrows, the genius had figured out what he’d been thinking.  Steve refused to blush as he nodded his agreement.

 

Tony let him leave first, since he had to get his tools put away.  As the elevator doors opened, Tony called over to him.  “Steve?”

 

The soldier turned around to see Tony smiling at him, that same awkward, hopeful smile that he’d had in the video, and when Steve had agreed to date him.  “Merry Christmas.”

 

Steve smiled widely, happily.  “Merry Christmas, Tony,” he replied, leaning back against the elevator wall as the doors closed on Tony’s goofy expression, taking him up to his floor.

 

Tilting his head up, he murmured to himself, “Best Christmas ever.”  He had a new home, his best friend back from the dead, a bunch of new friends and teammates, and the love of a genius.  How much luckier could he get?

 

 _Pretty damn lucky, Cap._   The words echoed in his head, and Steve smiled to himself, nodding lightly in agreement.

 

Pretty damn lucky, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is really late. But it was written as a gift, and I wanted them to have a chance to read it before I posted it. I'm not usually a Steve x Tony shipper, but that's what they asked for, so that's what they got. Sort of.


End file.
